[x]

Comfort"John, it's okay, it's alright now."
"NOW IT'S NOT! It is not okay!"
I had never seen John so scared, so angry, so out of control. It frightened me. He was always calm, held himself back, always in control. But he wasn't as I watched him. He breathed rapidly and shallow, I could practically see his heart pounding away in his chest. He was scared stiff by what he had seen, even if it wasn't real.
"Okay John, you need to calm down," I soothed.
"NO! I just…ARGH!" John yelled. He was falling apart right in front me. I needed to comfort him somehow, I just didn't know how. Feelings isn't something I know a great deal of, they'd become eve

Can I Kiss You, SherlockJohn traced his thumb against Sherlock's lively pink lip, looking deep into the detective's blue/gray, mysterious eyes. Oh, how badly he wanted to kiss this man, he didn't even know! His heart started pounding, hard, against his chest, fighting to get out.

"I don't see any damage, Sherlock..." John muttered, his thumb still skimming that delicate lip.

"Keep looking." Sherlock urged. "I know there must be something wrong with it! It hurts..."

Sometimes Sherlock made this face. It reminded John so much of a helpless little kid, and it was adorable. John's heart stopped as Sherlock's eyes looked so helplessly into his own, and he gasped light

The Next Morning11:02
Ms Hudson is coming up. Should I tell her we no longer need two bedrooms?
SH

11:02
Go ahead. She's been waiting for us to become a couple since day one.
JW

11:05
John I think something is wrong with her!
SH

11:05
Why? What's going on?
JW

11:06
She's squealing. Rather loudly.
SH

11:07
Oh. Women do that. No big deal.
JW

11:07
But she sounds like an injured pig.
SH

11:08
Sherlock!
JW

11:08
It's true.
SH

11:09
I'm sure it is. Just don't tell her that.
JW

11:10
Too late.
SH

11:10
You're really rude you know.
JW

11:11
Doesn't seem to bother her. She's clapping her hands.
SH

11:11
I knew she'd be happy.

Awkward Affection :Johnlock:Awkward Affections

I have heard time and time again how Sherlock is incapable of affection, sometimes even from the man himself. When discussing things like love and affection Sherlock looks at it in an analytical, apathetic, way. He sees no use in feeling such things that would be a distraction.

Or so he says.

But I know the truth.

For a while I believed what everyone was saying, until something happened. Well, it would actually be inaccurate to say just one thing happened, rather it was a gradual increase in small 'somethings' that made me realize they were all wrong.

First it was a smile here and there that Sherlock would only give me

Exception12:05
Sherlock are you busy?
JW

12:05
No. Aren't you?
SH

12:06
No. Light day.
JW

12:06
So you can text me while you're working, but I can't text you?
SH

12:07
You do text me.
JW

12:07
Yes, but it bothers you.
SH

12:07
Not really.
JW

12:08
You act like it does.
SH

12:08
That's because it should bother me.
JW

12:09
I don't follow.
SH

12:09
Never mind.
JW

12:10
I have question for you.
JW

12:10
Shoot.
SH

12:10
Not literally.
SH

12:11
I know what you meant.
JW

12:11
Good. What's your question?
SH

12:12
What should we call ourselves now that we're together?
JW

12:12
John and Sherlock.
SH

12:12

Soft Lips are Open

"John?"
"Jaaaaawn?"
Sherlock looked over his shoulder to see John's small figure passed out in his chair, his mouth hanging open ever slightly and a small whistle leaving his mouth every time he took a breath. Sherlock sighed, nothing to do now. He continued to watch John, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes would constantly flutter. A dream. He was having a dream. Sherlock hoped it was a good one, not one of those nightmares that would wake John, screaming to the point that the sound could be heard downstairs in the kitchen where Sherlock would be experimenting with whatever creature he could find in t

BathwaterJohn's neck was hot and damp and something rocked against his chin, spilling past his lips. Confused he took an experimental swallow and immediately choked. His eyes snapped open, wide with surprise, and he began to cough violently, gasping for air. The water slapped over the rim of the bath, splashing onto the bathroom floor. John blinked, puzzled: how on earth had he gotten there?

He looked down at himself. His torso and arms were bare and prickly, and there was a bruise on his abdomen, just below his ribcage but just above his stomach, that flowered sorely. To his relief he was wearing trousers, denim jeans that had turned black and heavy

John's Chair It had taken months for John to work up the courage to admit that the feelings he felt for Sherlock were more than what one feels for a best friend. It had taken another month for John to decide that he couldn't put up with the almost bipolar emotions he went through when he was near Sherlock. It had only taken an hour for Sherlock to kiss John.

It wasn't like he had meant for it to happen. He had come home from surgery, tired, grumpy, and sore. Sherlock was leaning back in the armchair, mind elsewhere. John put up with a lot from Sherlock-more than flatmates normally put up with- but he would not put up with Sherlock stealing

Very Lucky3:45
John where are you?
GL

3:46
At the clinic. Why?
JW

3:46
I think there's something wrong with Sherlock.
GL

3:47
What happened? Where are you?
JW

3:47
Calm down. Nothing like that.
GL

3:48
Oh. What's going on then?
JW

3:48
He just invited me to dinner.
GL

3:49
What?
JW

3:49
And called me Greg.
GL

3:50
Holy shit.
JW

3:50
That was my reaction too.
GL

3:51
I don't even know what to say.
JW

3:52
Neither did I.
GL

3:52
God, this is so bizarre.
JW

3:53
You're telling me.
GL

3:53
I wonder what's going on.
JW

3:54
Think it might be an experiment or something?
GL

3:54
Not likely. I doubt he'd lear

Welcome Home - Johnlock.Sherlock picked up his phone, and typed, 'John. I'm sorry. – SH'. His fingers were shaking as he pressed send.

John sat up straight, he had just dozed off in the living room after watching the News, and the buzzing of his phone in his pocket had made him jump, he unlocked his mobile phone and looked at the text.

His eyes filled with tears and took a few moments to take in the fact that his one wish could have come true. 'Sherlock. You're alive? -JW' he replied.
A few moments later, he received another message, 'That is irrelevant. You need to come pick me up. – SH'

'Irrelevant?! But... Ugh. Where are you, Sherlock? – JW."

Distracting Thoughts1:04
Stop that.
SH

1:04
Why are you texting me?
JW

1:05
You're thinking. It's distracting.
SH

1:06
And you can't just tell me? I'm right here.
JW

1:06
True. But given the nature of your thoughts I doubt you would appreciate me saying anything aloud.
SH

1:07
That's unusually considerate of you.
JW

1:07
Not really. You simply become difficult when you're embarrassed.
SH

1:08
And what makes you think the nature of my thoughts are embarrassing?
JW

1:08
Well I doubt low lighting is responsible for your pupil dilation.
SH

1:09
I can't help it that you're sexy when you're deducing stuff.
JW

1:09
You think I'm sexy?
SH

Bloody Hug!5:03
Where are you?
JW

5:03
Just left the Yard.
SH

5:04
How long until you're home?
JW

5:05
Not sure. A while. I've got to find Razz and he's across town.
SH

5:05
Can you do that later?
JW

5:06
Why should I?
SH

5:06
I need a hug.
JW

5:07
What?
SH

5:07
It's when two people wrap their arms around each other in affection.
JW

5:08
I know that. I meant, why?
SH

5:09
I've had a rough day.
JW

5:10
And that constitutes the need for a hug?
SH

5:11
If you discovered a case of child abuse involving a six year old you would need a hug too.
JW

5:11
Actually I think the victim would need one more than I.
SH

5:12
W

Tickle"John, go away," Sherlock frowned. I chuckled and pinched him again. He made an unamused noise. It made me smile and I pinched him again. "John, go away I'm thinking."
"You're no fun Sherlock," I frowned. I nudged him. He opened his eyes and glared at me. He was sprawled across the lounge, his hands in a prayer position. I sat on the ground next to him, enjoying annoying him.
"Now's not the time for fun John, it's the time for thinking," Sherlock said.
"What do you need to be thinking about? You've solved all of the cases," I replied.
"I need to stimulate my mind," Sherlock said, closing his eyes. A few minutes passed before I pinched him

When He WakesJohn stirs. Slowly his senses awaken and return as consciousness washes over him.
The first thing he becomes aware of is the sound of muted voices and music coming from near by. His foggy mind slowly processes them; noting that he doesn't recognize them.
Then comes scent; the aroma of stale Chinese take-away. And another aroma delightfully sharp and crisp that he can't place but he knows is very familiar. He's rather fond of that scent; if he could just recall what it is. Then he becomes aware of the fact that his bed is longer and narrower than he recalls.

Wait - bed? He's not in bed.

Couch. In front of the TV. That makes sense.

Actuall

When He SleepsSherlock detests sleep. Avoids it whenever possible. It's dull, pedestrian, unproductive and a waste of time. He only sleeps when it becomes absolutely necessary. When his body and mind are on the edge of collapse from over-exertion. Sleep was never a voluntary activity for him.
At least that's how it used to be. Now he sleeps quite regularly. Even on cases.

But only in the back of a cab. This is because of a certain jumper-wearing doctor that shares the cabs with him. Because in the cabs he can pillow against the above-mentioned doctor and sleep quiet contently.
It started out by accident of course; this "pillowing arrangement." They'd b

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Sherlock and John's accidental kiss!

by ~KawaiixKowai-chan, Mar 4, 2012, 1:15:42 PM
Literature / Prose / Fiction / Romance / Teen / Short Stories

He got up from his armchair suddenly and started pacing around the room. Sherlock then, while still pacing, ripped off his six nicotine patches.
   "John? John! Get me seven nicotine patches. NOW!"
John was in the cramped kitchen, emptying the mouldy food out of the fridge…and dismembered fingers and toes were somewhere amongst the disgusting contents.
   "H-hang on! Let me just-urgh-put this outside in the bin!"
Sherlock immediately strode into the room, took the bulging bin bag from John and opened the window over the bins. Angrily, he shoved the bin bag out the window and it landed with a thump into the bed of other putrid rubbish.
   "There. Now get me my patches," he walked back into their front room and plonked back down in his armchair sighing impatiently.
John rolled his eyes. Quickly, he opened the cupboard and searched through the ocean of pill packets and medicine bottles. John stopped abruptly. He feared Sherlock's reaction to what he was about to say…
   "Um, Sherlock?"
   "…Yes John?"
He coughed awkwardly.
   "Err, we're out of nicotine patches…" John mumbled.
   "What?"
He took a deep breath.
   "We are completely out of nicotine patches Sherlock,"
Silence. Slowly, Sherlock got out of his armchair and went to his locked drawers. He muttered something.
   "Pardon? "John inquired.
   "My gun. Where's my gun…?" Sherlock repeated and then he threw out packs of cigarettes, old tie pins and cuff link boxes.
After a while, Sherlock stopped searching and stared at John.
   "Where did you put it?" he demanded quietly.
John tried looking innocent.
   "Where did I put what?"
   "My gun, John! MY GUN!"
John stared coldly back at Sherlock and then glanced up to the smiley face on the wall.
   "I was not gonna risk another one of those incidents, Sherlock,"
Sherlock blinked repeatedly before shutting his eyes and grinding his teeth.
   "Give. Me. The. Gun," he said through gritted teeth. He was attempting to hold onto his temper.
   "No,"
Silence and continuous staring. They both darted towards John's drawers but John got there first and triumphantly held the gun away from Sherlock.
   "Hand me the gun, John. I'm only going to vent my anger on a bloody smiley face!!!"
   "First the smiley face, then what?! No, Sherlock,"
That was it. Sherlock flew at John and straddled him. The gun stayed in the firm clasp of John's hand, but as they struggled, Sherlock's knee's lost there place on the carpet and before they knew it, their lips were touching. Neither of them dared to move for a few minutes, before Sherlock rolled off of John and didn't look at him. He was flushing rose pink at the cheekbones. John slowly sat up. He blinked for a bit and then grabbed Sherlock's shoulders with extraordinary strength. He pulled the man closer to him, Sherlock didn't resist, and John tenderly kissed Sherlock's lips once again. Sherlock responded this time and kissed back with passion. The gun lay forgotten on the floor….but Sherlock's free hand crawled toward the gun and casually fired at the smiley face behind him.
   "Sherlock bloody Holmes! What've you done to my poor wall!?!?" screeched up Mrs Hudson and the two men grinned.